


The Daily Grind

by PineconeTrinklebriar



Series: Nightlights [10]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mages, Mild Language, Multiverse, Paranormal Investigators, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Swapfell Sans (Undertale), Undercover Missions, soul injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29594937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineconeTrinklebriar/pseuds/PineconeTrinklebriar
Summary: It's just a normal day at work for the Paranormal Security Team. You go undercover to catch a monster that's selling alliumedes. It should be simple enough. Of course, nothing is ever simple, not for your team.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Series: Nightlights [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994629
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	The Daily Grind

**Author's Note:**

> TW: There is a little bit of nonconsensual soul-touching in here. It's not sexual at all, but it might be trigger-y for some people.

“Ya know, babe, when you said we were going to go park somewhere, this is absolutely not what I thought you meant.” You clambered into the back seat of the car, surprised to find a pizza waiting in the seat beside you. “And I definitely didn’t think Mutt would be here.”

Mutt didn’t even acknowledge the comment, instead munching on a slice of the aforementioned pizza with his feet kicked up on the dashboard. Sans looked every bit the crazy old spinster spying on the neighbors with his binoculars trained out of the front of the car, which was the only reason that you could think of that Mutt was getting away with his current posture. His special sunglasses completed the look. He had been back to work for a couple of weeks now, but he was still supposed to wear his special sunglasses outside. The doctor said that Sans likely avoided permanent damage to his eyesight, but a little extra UV protection was still prudent for a few more months. Personally, you planned to milk that for all it was worth. You were all about your baby's eye safety. It definitely wasn't because the sunglasses were hilarious.

You grabbed some pizza and were also delighted to discover that Sans brought you a blanket to snuggle up in and was that a bunch of cupcakes? “So what’re we doing?” you asked around a bite of pizza. Sans winced at you talking with your mouth full. 

“We are on a stakeout,” he said matter of factly. “And I will thank you for swallowing before you speak.”

You made a loud and deliberate swallowing sound to watch him twitch and then said, “Who are we staking out?”

Mutt passed you an honest to god manila folder with a picture of a monster that you didn’t recognize paperclipped to the front. You flipped it open and grimaced. There was a list of crimes as long as your arm, mostly of the sleazy salesman variety. He did a lot of conning Underground, apparently, and wasn’t especially good at it based on the number of times he got caught. You shuffled the papers and blanched a little at the last entry in the file: a blown-up photograph of the monster passing off a cat carrier to a familiar human. It was… Well, you didn’t know his name, but you recognized him as one of the rogue government agents that captured you and Stretch a while back. Agent K. “What’s this guy doing with my best friend?” you asked.

“That’s what we are here to find out,” Sans said. “The current hypothesis is that he’s selling alliumedes to humans for gods only know what purposes.”

“But isn’t the human in jail? We put him away, right?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t seem to have stopped Theodore here. That picture is old, but we just found it when Stretch and Red got into some sort of hacking contest the details of which are both classified and unclear. The same hacking contest led to the discovery that Theodore has some sort of office space in this building.”

You were about to ask more about the hacking contest because that sounded awesome, but Mutt turned around and mouthed “CIA” at you. They hacked the CIA?! For a contest?! You could not wait to get them to tell you. Stretch had never been good at “classified”, not when it came to you.

“Comic says ‘e’s always been a sicko,” Mutt said, drawing your attention back to the matter at hand. “Couldn’ ever prove it, but kids went missin’ in his strip of New Home a whole lot more than normal.”

“Why’s he on the streets, then? Couldn’t Comic just judge him?” you wondered.

“Monster law doesn’t allow him to just judge willy nilly,” Sans said, “and if he did an illegal judging it would not be able to be used later. Plus, if the Judge took over and’ killed someone, he'd face consequences himself.”

That was news to you. You didn’t know there were really any rules about judging. As far as you knew, Comic just sort of… Did it? When there were bad guys? You really didn’t ask questions about it; it seemed to be a sensitive subject with the skeletons. Even  _ your _ skeleton, which was weird because he and Mutt were the only pair of brothers in which neither was a judge. You knew that Neo and Mars had both been Judges but weren’t any more because of the whole cannibalism thing. Stretch had been the judge of his world and still had nightmares about what he had to do there; Red was the Underfell judge, and if the Underswap judge still woke up screaming years later you could only imagine what horrors were etched on the inside of Red’s skull. You were silently grateful that Sans and Mutt didn’t have to deal with that noise, though it was another confusing quirk of the multiverse.

Anyway. The bad guy.

He was a small goat-like monster with dingy brown fur. He just looked like the kind of guy that made you feel like you needed a shower just by looking at him. You repressed a shiver of revulsion. You skimmed through the other pages of the file but didn’t find much of interest.

“We have it on good authority that he’s going to be selling something today,” Sans said. 

“To who?” you asked.

“Well…” Sans trailed off and Mutt held up a bag and waggled it at you. 

“ _ Me? _ Aren’t I, like, the least low key mage at this point? I’m around you guys all the time!”

“Ah, but only in the capacity of Paranormal Security,” Sans said quickly. “The only ones who know that are… Well, basically the skeleton clan and Asgore, really.”

“Undyne,” Mutt added.

“Oh, yes, Undyne and Alphys. Of course. But the point is: this guy stays as far from Embassy security as possible. We are fairly confident that he won’t recognize you,” Sans said.

You sighed and grabbed the bag from Mutt. A peek inside revealed a nice dress and heels. “Heels?” you asked, fishing them out of the bag.

“You have to look the part,” Sans said.

“And if I need to run?”

“You won’t. We’re right outside. You’ll be fine.” His eye lights met yours in the rearview mirror. “But you best get changed; the meeting starts in 10 minutes.”

You made a squawking noise and ducked down in the back seat to change. “Well, don’t look!” you said irritably when you saw eye lights in the mirror.

“I can assure you that my brother will not make that mistake,” Sans said, not looking away from the mirror as he grinned at you.

“You’re making the mistake! You’re making it right now!” you griped. He waggled his brows at you in a way that was so silly and rare for him that you snorted when you laughed. “You’re stupid,” you told him affectionately after you pulled the dress over your head. It really was nice; it was a silky red number that you figured would be floor length when you stood up. It fit perfectly, but that was no surprise, not with your detail-oriented beau. You slipped on the strappy heels that were a broken ankle waiting to happen. “Okay,” you said finally, “but next time I want to sit in the damn car and eat pizza during the stakeout. Especially if the weather is hella cold and I don’ get a coat.” Sans handed you your earpiece and you slipped it into your ear. The familiar static of the mixture of technology and Comic’s magic buzzed pleasantly in your ear. 

“Don’ worry, El. Next time I’ll wear the silky dress. It’ll really bring out my hips,” Mutt said, mimicking Sans’s brow wiggle from earlier.

“Pfft. I have always said that your hips don’t lie, M.”

“You know, if you like it you could still put a ring on it.”

“We’ll be standing by,” Sans interrupted, which was really too bad. You could exchange jokes related to pop songs for literal hours. “Just get whatever he is selling so we can put him away for good.”

“If ya get inta trouble the codeword is ‘Beyonce,’” Mutt added.

“Seriously?”

“We’ll work on a better word for the next infiltration mission,” Sans said. “You be careful,” he added quickly, almost like an afterthought.

“Always,” you said with a cheeky grin, then stumbled out of the car into the alleyway. You took a minute to straighten the dress, adjust the heels, and fuss with your hair before walking out of the alley. 

“You’re going to the Sterling Corporation building, two blocks ahead,” Sans said in your ear. You didn’t respond because you didn’t fancy looking like a crazy person by talking to yourself as you strode down the street. 

The Sterling Corporation building was a huge skyscraper jutting up from the heart of Ebbott. It rose up during the time in your life where you avoided Ebbott like the plague so you weren’t entirely sure what it was or what people did there, but it was a big, glassy building that reflected the sun during the day and seemed to twinkle with the stars at night. You were sure it was probably some sort of bullshit corporate thing that screwed over the little guy any chance they got, but it was still a pretty building.

You let yourself into a fancy lobby, the kind where there’s unnecessary little seating areas with plush rugs and uncomfortable-looking furniture. 

The receptionist looked up with the smile of someone who has been working for too many hours already that day. You smiled back, warm and friendly. “Can I help you?” she asked primly.

“Tell her you’re here to see Max,” Sans instructed.

“Yeah, I’m here to see Max,” you parroted to her.

“I’ll call up and let him know you’re here.” The woman tapped on the phone and said, “Yessir, you have a visitor?” She covered the phone and asked, “Name?”

“Bianca,” you said without hesitating. That was always your fake name and there was no way Sans didn’t set up the meet using it. The woman repeated your false name into the phone, then nodded and hung up.

“You can head on up,” she said. “He’s on floor 23, first left out of the elevator.”

“Thanks,” you said, and stepped into the elevator. While it rose you rubbed at your calves. Stupid freaking heels. “Max?” you asked.

“It’s his alias that he’s using to rent the office,” Sans said.

“Wait, so we’re dealing with an alliumede dealer that has an office in a legit office building? That’s weird, right?”

“Indeed,” Sans said.

“‘Specially for a monster,” Mutt added. “It’d be hard for a monster to get an office at all, but with a fake identity? Dunno how ‘e did it.”

It only took a minute for the elevator to reach the 23rd floor. You stepped out of it and onto the very picture of a perfect floor in an office building. There were little plants and bland paintings periodically down the hallway, plus dozens of oak doors that had shiny gold plates with the name and occupation of whoever was inside. Your heels tippity-tapped the way into the first door to the left of the elevator. Its label declared it Conference A. It was a smallish conference room with a table that had eight of those rollie chairs surrounding it. In one of the chairs sat a human man with impeccable posture. “Hello,” he said brightly. He looked like someone's intern on their first day.

“Um… Hello,” you said cautiously.

“Who the hell is that?” Sans spat in your earpiece.

“I’m Zane,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I’m Max’s assistant. Please take a seat and we can talk about the terms of the deal.”

“I am only dealing with Max,” you said coldly. “I don’t know who you are, but I am not dealing with you.” You turned to leave and felt the door lock click. 

Fan-freaking-tastic.

Zane tsked at you. “It looks like you’re stuck in here for the moment,” he said. “Please have a seat.”

Yup, you hated that.

You walked over to the table and sat at the exact opposite end from him. You crossed your arms and leaned back. “Care to explain why this is suddenly a hostage situation?” you asked calmly.

Zane laughed. “Sorry, it’s a necessary precaution. I don’t have to tell you how delicate this type of operation can be, and my employer isn’t in the business of taking unnecessary risks.” He leaned forward a little, a mean smile on his face. “For example, I’m not sure who you are, but I am positive that your name is not Bianca.”

You laughed. “Of course it's not! You’re right; this is a delicate operation. Who would be silly enough to use real names?” He blinked at you like he didn’t expect that response. Good. “What do you need from me to move this along? I’m very busy and I would strongly prefer to not be late to my next appointment.”

“It’s very simple,” he said. “I just need you to summon your soul.”

_ “Excuse me?” _

“Summon your soul. You’re a mage, right? So you are able to do that. A quick check of that and we will move right along.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m summoning my soul for this. The deal’s off.” You rose from the table and immediately felt your soul ping blue. You narrowed your eyes at Zane, but it clearly wasn’t him who grabbed you. He was a human; he didn’t have the necessary magic. Had to be a mage or a monster… You glanced around the room trying to figure out where they were. You knew that blue magic required line of sight so they had to be able to see you to use it on you. Your eyes fell on the window and you squinted at the building across the street. Maybe…?

You were abruptly forced back into the seat you’d just vacated. You felt the grip loosen a bit while you sat there, but it never went away entirely. You crossed your legs and gave off the appearance of boredom. “I’m not summoning my soul,” you repeated calmly. You forced yourself not to fidget despite how uncomfortable the chair was.

“That’s fine.” Zane pressed something under the table and the wall behind you opened up. You couldn’t move to see what was behind you but you had to assume it wasn’t pleasant. You heard footsteps and the goat monster, Theodore (or “Max” apparently), stepped into your field of vision. You could see that he was holding some sort of remote.

“Hiya,” Max said with a grin. “I’d of thought a mage would get why I wanna see ya soul. Can’ lie to me when it’s out, right little bunny?”

You rolled your eyes. Great, so this idiot believed that rumor. Of course you could lie while your soul was out. It wasn’t some magical--

You bit back a scream as he ripped your soul out of your chest. You had one of your appointments with Alphys earlier in the day and she delicately cleared off some of the coagulated strings of magic that surrounded your soul, but it still hurt like hell to pull your soul out. Once it was out of your body, the pain dulled somewhat. Well, it did unless one of the holes ripped open more, in which case you would probably pass out and maybe die? A quick glance revealed that the holes hadn’t opened up more when he unceremoniously ripped out the core of your being; there were little dribbles of magic dripping out of them (like always) but no gushing or anything. 

Well, at least there’s that.

Once you confirmed you weren’t going to kick it in this office (damn it, you didn’t have the magic EpiPen that Alphys gave you; it was in your mission coat!), you looked away from your soul. You didn’t want to see the cracks or the faded peach light from it. You’d been seeing way too much of it lately and it only served to remind you of all the shit you'd been through. Plus, the only thing it had ever done was try to kill you. Too bad it didn't work like an appendix; you couldn't remove it when it tried to murder you.

It used to be really pretty.

A burst of pain exploded from your soul. Your eyes flew open and you watched as the monster pressed some sort of thermometer-looking device against it. You grit your teeth while he worked, forcing yourself not to scream. The last thing you needed was Mutt and Sans busting in here and freak out because of how damaged your soul was. 

Finally, he let your soul fade back into your chest. You gulped air and squeezed your eyes shut while you waited on whatever judgement this fool was going to pass. Your soul hurt. It hurt so, so badly.

Him seeing your soul sucked. Touching it was worse. It being exposed to the open air of the room was the worst by far. Souls are attracted to magic, so they pick up whatever magic is nearby. If they are outside the body, they detect even more. You were completely overwhelmed by Max's slimy, oily magic and the flicker of magic from Zane's human soul. The whole world felt like it was screaming, and, in addition to Max and Zane, one of the screams you felt was some dark allimagic. It felt similar to the magic at the crime scene that you investigated a few weeks ago, back when Gara was trying to murder all of the Sanses. It was strong and foul enough that it made you reflexively hold your breath. Luckily, you didn’t continue to feel it once your soul returned to your body. You tried to figure out why it was here at all, but your mind was dulled by pain. You couldn’t think, at least not that quickly. It was taking all of your concentration just to keep sitting up instead of curling into a ball on the floor.

“Good news!” Max said, clapping you on the shoulder. “Ya passed the test! Ready ta get the goods?”

“Yes, that would be lovely,” you managed to grit out. 

“Fantastic,” he said. “Babe, ya doin’ anything after this? That was a real primo soul there. Got me going real good, little bunny.”

You forced yourself to look amused rather than horrified. “I don’t mix business and pleasure, Max.”

“Mm. The pleasure might make it worth it, bunny.” He winked at you and you repressed a disgusted shiver. Thankfully, he sauntered away from you and plopped into a chair without touching you again. Breaking his hands off would have been super fun, but ultimately counterproductive to the mission. He leaned back and kicked his feet up on the table. Zane disappeared behind you and reappeared with a large suitcase. “Well, show ‘er what she’s payin’ for!” Max growled.

Zane opened the suitcase and you had to force yourself not to widen your eyes. Inside was a wispy creature, almost fairy-like, with green skin and flowing hair that looked like weeping willow branches. Its huge blue eyes stared up at you, obviously afraid. A dryad. A baby dryad. Inside a gods damned briefcase.

Oh, you could not wait to turn this guy over for Judgement.

“That whatcha’re lookin’ fer, bunny?” Max asked. “She’s gonna grow up ta be a real looker. Lots ya could do wit’ ‘er.”

“Yes, she will do nicely,” you said calmly. “Thank you.”

“Yessiree,” Max said as if you hadn’t said anything. “Ya know what else sells real good?” You felt blue magic grab your soul again. “Mages.”

Zane grabbed you roughly and slapped a bracelet on your wrist. You didn’t recognize the specific design, but you recognized the effects immediately: a magic reduction cuff. You felt your magic shrivel, leeched out of you by the spells in the cuff. Interestingly, the ache in your chest subsided as well.

“Already got a buyer for ya too,” Max said. “Offered me a price I couldn’ refuse. Ya get it. Ya’re a businesswoman.”

The blue magic lifted from your soul as soon as the cuff was in place. You nearly rolled your eyes at the stupidity; sure, not having magic was a drag, but it certainly didn’t leave you defenseless.

Which you immediately proved by slamming an elbow into Zane’s gut. He grunted and staggered back, giving you an opening to grab the case with the dryad in it. You pulled it to your chest and landed a solid kick on one of Zane’s shins. You know, people underestimate the value of a good shin kick. It’s the least protected bone in the body so it makes a pretty decent target for, say, a pair of pointy heels. You heard him hit the ground behind you and then gave Max a wicked grin. “Probably shouldn’t of dropped the blue magic, idiot,” you said. With one hand, you yanked the dryad into your arms. You kept a tight hold on the handle of the case with the other and bashed it against Max’s face. He snarled a curse and staggered back before shooting fire at you. You ducked and rolled to the side, but you felt the searing heat over your head. You held the dryad to your chest protectively and considered your options. The pain in your soul was completely gone, which allowed you to concentrate on getting the hell out of there.

One: You could try to beat the goat fistacuffs style. You had a decent chance of success, but you had a passenger to protect and he had the advantage of being able to use magic.

Two: You could try the door, though you were pretty sure it wouldn’t open.

Three: …

You glanced out the window that you were kneeling beside and were pretty surprised to see a skeleton standing on the street looking up at the building. 

Hey… You hadn’t heard them talking since they locked the door…

“Sans?” you asked in the com, keeping your favorite skeleton in view when you said it. He didn’t react in any way and he didn’t respond. Cool, cool. 

Another wave of flames smashed into the floor beside you. Well… You were pretty sure options one and two were out so that left

Three: Jump out the window and trust that Sans will catch you with blue magic.

You hefted up the heavy case and used it to smash the window. You saw Sans twig to the noise immediately, purple eye lights shrinking to pin pricks when he saw you. The little dryad tightened their grip on you reflexively and you didn’t allow yourself to worry. You glanced over your shoulder at the goat who was aiming another fire attack at you. You took a breath and jumped.

And fell.

And fell.

And

PING!

You felt your soul turn blue and swallowed back a cry of relief. Sans’s hand was extended and coated in purple magic. He was about twenty feet below you and still across the street. People were stopping and pointing at you as you hung in the air. You forced yourself not to nag but shit did you want him to put you down.

He lowered you achingly slowly and by the time you neared the ground, he was there to catch you. He grabbed you too tightly but you didn’t protest. “Did we get him?” you asked.

“Comic, Mutt, and Red are going in after him,” he said. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“That my boyfriend would catch me,” you said honestly. You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “And look! He did.”

“Eleanor--” he began warningly, but the dryad chose that moment to let out a perilous cry and bury itself in your chest. He looked down at it and blinked. “Is that a dryad?”

“It is,” you confirmed. “It’s what he was selling.”

“And what did you do to go from calmly buying a dryad to throwing yourself out the window?”

“He decided he wanted to add a mage to his inventory,” you told him. You shifted to show him your wrist. “Slapped a magic reduction cuff on me and the door was locked.” Sans’s eye lights shrank again as he took in the cuff. That would be a lot worse for a monster than a mage (though it wasn’t great for either); monsters were made of magic. If they wore one of those cuffs long enough, their body could destabilize, which is probably why he was so upset. “I’m fine,” you told him firmly. “Comic will get it off and it’ll be fine.”

He pulled you closer to him, his grip somehow tightening even more, but he didn’t say anything to refute your claim that it would be fine. He carried you back to the car and tucked you into the back seat, covering you and the dryad with the blanket and handing you a piece of pizza. “Babe, I’m fine,” you repeated, but he shook his head.

“Eat,” he ordered, so you ate. The dryad even tried a little nibble of pizza. Sans tried to moodily lean against the door of the car, but you scooched over enough to pull him in with you. He came reluctantly but curled up against you pretty happily once he was there. 

“How do we find where this little sweetie belongs?” you asked him. The dryad, having decided pizza wasn’t its thing, was curled up on you sleeping.

“We’ll have to dig through Theodore’s records,” Sans said. “Hopefully he can tell us where he got her. Comic might even be able to see when he judges him.”

You nodded and snuggled up against Sans. You were exhausted; the magic drain combined with your poor sleep from nightmares and pain wore you down. You had the gentle weight of the dryad on your chest and the warmth of Sans’s body beside you, and it all combined to drag you down into sleep.

***

You woke up on Sans’s couch, a situation you were familiar with by now. Apparently he carried you into the house without waking you. You glanced down and confirmed that the little dryad was still clinging to you desperately. You patted their head gently and they leaned into the touch.

“Welcome back to the land o’ the living,” Comic said.

You glanced at him and discovered him sitting on the floor beside the couch fiddling with the cuff on your wrist. “Hey,” you said.

“This thing’s turin’ out to be a bitch to get off ya,” Comic said.

“Hmm?”

“Been tryin’ for an hour now,” he muttered.

“Wait. You can’t get it off?” You sat up fast enough that the dryad whimpered. You ran a soothing hand over their back and looked down at Comic in horror. “Please be playing a real shitty prank.”

“Oh, I’ll get it off,” he said grimly. “You wanna keep this hand or…?”

“If it’s between not having magic and losing a hand I guess you can take the hand!” you snapped. “What’s so special about it?”

“‘S got a weird rune,” he said.

“A weird rune?”

“Yeah, it’s--”

“Sans!” you yelled, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. There was a clattering sound from the kitchen then the pop of teleportation and Sans was standing by the couch looking harried. 

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” he demanded. 

“Comic says he can’t get the cuff off!”

He looked down at Comic and then back at you, then grinned softly. “He’ll get it,” he said.

“But--”

“He’ll get it,” he repeated. He climbed onto the couch and pulled you into his arms. The dryad made a sleepy noise when he moved you. He pressed a light kiss to the top of your head and pulled you close. “He’ll get it,” he repeated. “Go back to sleep.”

You could feel that he was pushing some gentle sleeping magic at you, but you weren’t really in the mood to resist. You desperately wanted him to be right  _ (he was right he was right he was--) _ and sitting here waiting for Comic to figure this out sounded like torture. Instead, you let the familiar safety of Sans’s magic draw you back to sleep.

***

“--easier if she’s asleep!”

“We are not doing something that dangerous without her consent!”

“Dangerous? Come on, Black. You’re bein’ dramatic. Worst thing that happens is we cut ‘er wrist a little! We’ll heal it right up, good as new!”

“Do you cut through magic cuffs often, then? Because you sound like this  _ isn’t _ a damn experiment! You have  _ no idea _ how the determination magic will--”

“Why’re we yellin’?” you garbled, barely awake.

“You’re awake!” Sans said a little too brightly.

“Sound like Blue,” you mumbled.

“She ain’ wrong, bro,” Mutt cackled. “Ya did sound like the blueberry.”

You tried to sit up but stopped when you heard tiny sounds of protest from your chest region. For a terrified second you thought your soul somehow developed the ability to make upset noises, but a quick look down revealed a dryad.

Oh yeah.

“Did we figure out the cuff?” you asked. You were still sleepy, but you felt more rested than you had in a long time. 

“Think we got a solution,” Comic said.

“Kay.”

“Neo’s got this little tool imbued with determination magic.”

“Mkay.”

“It’s a little saw?”

You blinked at Comic muzzily. “You want to saw into my wrist.”

“Hobbes’s real good wit’ it,” Neo said from somewhere behind you. You twisted to look over your shoulder and found Hobbes and Neo both standing there. “‘E won’ hurtcha.”

_ This time,  _ you thought a little bitterly. You shook your head and rubbed your eyes. You were too sleepy. You needed to wake up before you said something you really, really couldn’t take back. You took a few breaths and then looked back up at them. “Okay,” you said.

“Really?” Comic, Sans, and Neo all said at the same time.

“Uh… Yeah? I mean, the worst that can happen is he accidentally hurts my wrist, right?” 

“Theoretically ‘e could cut your hand off,” Comic said with a shrug. “‘S determination magic, so it could do ‘bout anything really.”

“Is it the only way to get the cuff off?”

“Love, it’s dangerous--”

“But is it the only way to get the cuff off?” 

The skeletons all looked at one another awkwardly. Finally, Neo said, “We think so.”

“Well, then it doesn’t seem like worrying about it is gonna do us any good,” you pointed out. You re-settled yourself on the couch and began trying to pry the dryad off of you. You figured that they wouldn’t like the sound of the saw. As soon as you began trying to move them, they tightened their grip and wailed. “It’s fine,” you cooed at them. “You’re just gonna want--” They cut you off with an even louder and higher-pitched scream.

“Don’t sound like they want,” Mutt said.

“So helpful!” you yelled at him, but you stopped trying to remove the dryad. Slowly, they calmed and burrowed back against you. “I guess they’re sticking around for the saw,” you said.

“They’ll be fine,” Neo said. “Ya ready?”

You shrugged. Sans moved so that he was standing at your shoulder, fists clenched. His nerves actually made you more nervous, but telling him that wasn’t going to help. Mutt trotted over to the couch and scooped your legs up, sat down, and repositioned your legs so that they were draped across him. You smiled at him gratefully.

Hobbes sat beside you on the floor and cautiously grabbed hold of your wrist. You looked up at him and he decidedly did not meet your gaze. You silently wondered if he was remembering the last time he had your life in his hands in this house. He’d been pretty out of it; maybe he didn’t remember it at all. Would that be a good thing or a bad thing? You couldn't decide.

You took in his posture, how his shoulders were hunched like he expected to get hit, how his eye light was smaller than normal, and you felt some of the tension drain out of you. Hell, it was just a wrist. Worst case scenario, he cut you a little by accident. Even if he cut you a lot by accident, your family was full of fantastic healers. He wasn’t going to permanently disfigure you.  ~~_ It wasn’t like he was messing with your soul. _ ~~

“Hey,” you said and he finally looked at you. “You got this, bud. It’ll be fine.” 

He met your eyes and seemed to like whatever he saw there. His eye light lightened and he got the little crinkly lines that meant he was smiling. You held out your wrist to him and let him fondle it a little. He pulled the cuff out as far from your skin as possible. It fit pretty snugly, so that gap was pretty damn small. He fiddled with it a little bit before settling in with a nod. He produced a tiny saw (a Dremel, you realized) with a circular blade. The thing was only about as long as your index finger. He pressed the blade to a small area between two of the runes. That was smart; the area between the runes would be the weakest spot. You took a breath then said, “Ready.”

Hobbes nodded and pulled a pair of those weird glasses that magnify stuff from his inventory and put them on. He tapped the blade with one finger and it began glowing red with light determination magic. “You guys get Frisk to help with the Dremel?” you asked. The intent felt familiar.

“They’re the best at determination,” Mutt said with a shrug. “Ain’t any determination mages at the Embassy.”

“It’s fine; I was just curious,” you said with a shrug.

Hobbes turned the little tool on and looked up at you again. Asking permission one last time. You placed a steadying hand on the dryad and nodded. Without further ado, he leaned forward and pressed the blade to the cuff.

At first nothing happened. The red determination magic sparked against the cold metal, throwing off burnt orange sparks. The dryad leaned around your shoulder to watch Hobbes work. Their icy blue eyes were huge and filled with wonder. At least they weren’t freaking out like you worried they might.

You, however, were freaking out. You were freaking out a lot. The fear of accidentally cutting your hand off was replaced with the fear of this not working at all. If you didn’t have magic you wouldn’t have a job anymore! Who knew how the skeletons would respond to that? Shit! The council would probably revoke your mage status. Would they take your house again? 

~~_ Well, if they did that maybe Sans would ask you to move in. _ ~~

You took a deep breath to calm yourself at the exact instant that he broke through the top of the cuff. A wave of intent washed over you, familiar and cold. It was the same overwhelming and terrifying intent that you felt at the crime scene a few weeks ago. You felt the same choking darkness, the same clawing hands, and your wrist hurt, it  _ hurt _ . You couldn’t breathe, it felt like you were drowning again. You soul screamed, all of the pain you hadn’t felt over the course of the day suddenly rushing over you at once, adding to the sensation that you were sinking and you would never get out. You were going to die here and and and and--

And you were on the floor.

Sans was holding your wrists. You realized you were pulling against his grip and forced yourself to go slack. When you did, he cautiously let go of your wrists and switched to holding your face gently. You didn’t realize you’d been crying until he wiped a tear away.

“The fuck happened?” Neo growled behind you.

You took another steadying breath and looked around. The dryad still had a tight grip on you, but they looked terrified. Mutt was behind Sans, hands glowing purple and eye light strobing. Comic was beside him. His hands were in his pockets and he looked deceptively casual, but his smile was tense. Hobbes was on the floor too; it looked like you flung him back when you started freaking out. The dremel was whirring quietly on the floor a few feet away and Neo was kneeling by his brother.

“Hobbes, you hurt?” you asked. Your throat ached like you’d screamed. 

“‘E’ll be fine, doll,” Neo said.

“So he’s hurt.”

Neo sighed. “‘E jus’ got a little nick from the Dremel. 'M more concerned abou’ ya.”

Fair point. Now that you knew everyone else was okay-ish, you looked yourself over and grimaced when you realized that you’d scratched up your arms again. Sans gently caught your wrist, the one that had the cuff on it until recently, and you looked down. There was a hideous bruise circling it and, when he flipped it over, you saw that the bruises were distinctly finger-shaped. Hobbes made an upset noise.

“I did not do this,” Sans told you quietly. “It’s from the bracelet.”

“I know,” you said. “And it probably won’t heal, just like the black eye, right?” The black eye you got the last time you encountered this allimagic was gone (finally), but magic wouldn’t touch it when it happened. Blue, Papyrus, and Jupiter all tried, but no amount of magic healed it. It was safe to assume that the bruises on your wrist would be equally resistant.

“Where’s the cuff?” you asked.

“Teleported it outside while you were screamin’” Mutt said.

“Oh.” You looked down awkwardly. “Sorry to freak you guys out.”

“Hard to make skeletons jump outta their skin,” Comic said, to the chagrin of the present Papyri. 

You wanted to curl into a little ball to get control over yourself again, but that would only freak the boys out, so you settled for pressing your forehead against Sans’s sternum and taking steadying breaths. He rubbed your back soothingly. You clutched your wrist to your chest; it looked like you were soothing the hurt wrist while allowing you to also try to soothe your soul by rubbing at your sternum. It never worked before, but hey, maybe it would this time.

The dryad snuggled against your wrist and made little upset noises. They seemed to understand that it hurt, which was far cuter than you were prepared to handle at this time. “I’m fine,” you told them. They made what could only be a sound of derision and continued fussing with your wrist and sternum. You returned the favor by rubbing a soothing hand on their back.

“Well, now that we took care of one problem,” you said, “do we have any idea where this sweetie lives?”

Sans continued petting your back as he answered. “Stretch thinks he found it in Theodore’s files.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I wanted to wait until we got the cuff off so that you could go with us.”

You bit your lip and looked down at the little figure curled up against you. They were petting your sternum now. “Will they be safe there?”

Sans blinked at you. “Why would they not be?”

Your whole situation really threw off his game. “Because an alliumede dealer found, kidnapped, and tried to sell them once? Are we sure that he wasn’t working with anyone who would try to do it again?”

Sans stilled. “I… Perhaps we should have Edge look over the plan.”

“You were understandably distracted,” you told him gently.

“Distractions get people killed.” His voice was cold, that sentiment one he had told himself thousands of times in Swapfell. It hurt to see him fall back into old coping mechanisms.

“Well, luckily you have lots of people to make sure that no one gets killed if you get distracted for a second." You gave him a minute to let those words sink in. You waited until most of the tension was gone from his shoulders before gently suggesting, "Let’s call Edge.”

It took Sans a few more minutes to let go of you, but he eventually released you so that he could go check in with his bestie. You insisted on checking Hobbes’s hand yourself, but Neo was right that it was a small cut. He would be okay. 

Once your pain calmed down enough, you climbed shakily to your feet and made your way to the back door. You shrugged on your coat over the dumb dress (you couldn’t change with a dryad clinging to you) and stepped outside. Mutt and Comic were both kneeling over the cuff. It looked pretty innocent laying in the grass like that. It certainly didn’t  _ look _ like it held the worst allimagic you’d ever felt in the history of the world.

“‘Ey, should ya be out ‘ere?” Mutt asked.

“Maybe let us deal wit’ the clean up,” Comic said.

“I just want to see if the magic is off of it.”

You approached cautiously, holding the dryad tightly against you. When that didn't garner a reaction from the cuff, you knelt right beside it. That close, you could feel a shadow of the allimagic that came out of it, but it seemed like most of it leaked out. It wasn’t strong enough to hurt you; it made you feel a little sick, but not like clawing your own arms off. You leaned forward to touch it but Mutt full-on smacked your hand. “Don’ touch it,” he growled.

“Dude.”

“Nah, he’s right. Ya shouldn’ touch it.”

_ “Dudes.” _

They both looked back at you blandly. That was their “say whatever, but I'm not gonna let you be an idiot” look. “I want to see if I can get a magic signature off of it,” you said. “You know that I’m the only one who can.”

“Stretch could--”

“His app doesn’t work as well as me for figuring out signatures. You know that. I’m fine.”

Neither of them looked impressed. They shared a meaningful look then turned back to you. “Fine. Pick it up. If ya don’ go bat shit we’ll talk ‘bout you takin’ a stab at it,” Comic said.

Despite arguing for it, you weren’t totally jazzed to pick the thing up. You remembered the grabby hands and the feeling of drowning. But, now that your brain wasn’t drowning in pain, you figured something out: you weren’t in pain while you were wearing the cuff. Maybe it was because you were distracted by magic drain and jumping out a window, but maybe it was because of the cuff itself. Alphys made you that shot that reduced the magic output from your soul as an emergency measure; was it possible that a magic reduction cuff was actually treating your symptoms while you were wearing it? And, if so, could Alphys replicate that in an easier-to-remove format?

There was only one way to find out, so you leaned forward and picked up the cuff. 

You felt the echoes of the allimagic, but it seemed that the majority of it was gone. You shrugged and stuck the bracelet in one of the pockets of your jacket. “See? I’m fine,” you said. “I’ll take it back home and do some analyzing. Hopefully we’ll be able to figure out the source.”

“I don’ like that whatever’s causing that signature has messed with monsters twice now,” Comic said darkly. “Feels dangerous.”

“An’ prob’ly not a coincidence,” Mutt agreed.

“Yeah,” you said. “We’ll figure it out.”

The three of you turned when you heard the door open behind you. Sans stood there wearing his own jacket. “Edge approved the return plan for the dryad,” he said. “We should get going; you know it is not healthy for them to be away from the forest for long.”

“I’m gonna go meet up wit’ Red an’ fill him in,” Comic said. “Lemme know if ya get killed.”

“Will do,” you said. He exchanged fist bumps with you and Mutt and a wave with Sans before disappearing into the void.

Sans ushered you, Mutt, and the dryad to his car, pausing only to let you say bye to Hobbes and Neo. Mutt insisted you sit up front, probably because he knew that Sans wanted to keep his hands on you. He held your hand tightly the entire drive and his fingers kept sliding down to the bruise on your wrist like it had a magnetic pull on them. You just kept your hand available for all of his fondling needs while the four of you traveled further and further out of the city.

“How far is it?” Mutt whined.

“Why? Got a hot date?” you asked. 

“‘M hungry,” he said. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“We are skeletons! We don’t use bathrooms!” Sans snipped.

“You don’ know,” Mutt shot back. “Maybe you’re the only one who don’ an’ we let you think we all don’ so you don’ worry about it.”

“I raised you since you were a baby bones!”

“Kept it a secret.”

“Right,” Sans deadpanned, “you kept your bathroom habits a secret from me when you were so young that you couldn’t even walk. That sounds probable.”

“COWS!” you yelled, pointing out the window as you passed a pasture. Both skeletons moaned as you pulled ahead in the game. “And, babe, I actually do need to use the bathroom.”

“You’re impossible,” Sans said, but he was eyeing you in concern. The skeletons really didn’t understand necessary bodily functions of humans and mages, so he could never decide if what you were telling him was an emergency or just a fact of life for you. 

“Not an emergency,” you told him.

He nodded. “Well, we’re almost there.”

“Good, ‘cause my boredom was abou’ to become emergent,” Mutt said.

Sans sighed. The car crested a hill, revealing a wooded area. You recognized it as an ancient forest immediately; the trees were twisted and gnarled and the bark was dark. It was clearly on enchanted land, just like your house was. Sans pulled off to the side of the road. “Mutt, stay here and make sure no one damages the car,” Sans said. “Love, come with me and bring the dryad.”

“‘Ave fun,” Mutt said. He sprawled out in the backseat and looked like he was going to sleep. You knew he wouldn’t actually; he was from Swapfell and could easily look asleep and be ready to shank someone at a second’s notice if he needed to. That was probably why Sans didn’t protest his brother’s apparent lack of attention. Instead, he grabbed your hand and the two of you trotted further into the forest.

As soon as you crossed the treeline, the dryad seemed to perk up. They pushed themselves up off of your chest and looked around. “Do you know where you are?” you asked them. In response, they made a trilling noise that seemed to carry through the oddly quiet forest.

A deeper trilling noise answered and the dryad began bouncing. You had to let go of Sans to keep them from falling. They let out another happy trill and the huge, ancient trees in front of you parted, revealing an ethereal door that shimmered like the mist that flooded the forest around your house early in the morning. 

The dryad leapt from your arms with a feat of strength you didn’t know them capable of. They dashed to the door, which opened as they approached. You could just make out a more beautiful forest inside, as well as moving figures that were probably larger dryads. One of the figures emerged from the door and scooped the baby into their arms before turning and looking at you. Their huge eyes were the same blue as the baby’s, their hair the same wispy willow branches. They raised a hand to you, then bowed. You smiled and returned the gesture. The child gave one more happy trill, then the two of them disappeared into the door. The door melted into the forest and was gone.

“Well that was freaking awesome,” you said.

Sans chuckled. “It was pretty awesome.” He caught your hand again and the two of you turned to make your way back out of the forest. You even managed to get Sans to give you a piggyback ride because you were still wearing your heels. The car and Mutt were both still in one piece when you climbed back in.

“Kid get home ok?” he asked without opening his sockets.

“Yep,” you said. “There was a mist door. It was pretty sweet.”

“I can’t help but notice you’re still dressed up very nicely,” Sans said to you.

“Your powers of observation are unparalleled.”

“Would you accompany me to dinner?” He asked almost shyly. 

“Well, gee. I guess I can make room in my busy schedule for you.”

“Dust me now,” Mutt groaned. “Please take me home first.”

“I thought you wanted me to dust you,” Sans said.

“Har dee har har.”

Sans chuckled, put the car in drive, and the three of you headed home. You settled back into the seat and relaxed, excited for a dinner date with Sans. While he and Mutt bickered good-naturedly back and forth, you fished out your cell phone and shot off a text to Alphys. After all, you had an idea you needed to talk to her about.

_ Everything is going to work out just fine _ , you thought as you fiddled with the broken cuff in your pocket.  _ It has to. _


End file.
